


Baby Fever [Written Parts]

by adamsnackler



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Everyone is Bi and the Points Don't Matter, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I suck at tags, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Light Angst, Mild Smut, Misunderstandings, Orphan Rey (Star Wars), Protective Ben Solo, Sad Ben Solo, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, everyone is bi, rey has baby fever, still new to the smut factor so yeah sorry if it sucks, that's right the points don't matter, these two are idiots your honor, unprotected sex (because we making babies), will update tags as needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamsnackler/pseuds/adamsnackler
Summary: [textfic au]Rey wants a baby and asks her gay best friend Ben to help. Little does she know Ben is actually bi,andhe has a massive crush on her.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 41
Kudos: 248
Collections: Ijustfellintothissendhelp





	1. august

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first half of the written portion of my Twitter textfic [Baby Fever](https://twitter.com/adamsnackler/status/1284326511248584704).

The leaves were just beginning to change to their usual autumn oranges and reds as Ben’s Jeep Wrangler rolled up the driveway of the Organa-Solo estate in upstate New York. The house, a large midcentury ranch with an abundance of windows, overlooked one of the many lakes that scattered the geography of the state. It had a wraparound deck, with plenty of outdoor seating for entertaining and a long dock that led down to a boat slip out back. It was evening by the time Ben and Rey arrived, and the plethora of windows twinkled with the soft glow of warm lighting.

“The lights are on a timer, for security,” Ben offered as way of explanation.

Rey nodded. “It’s just as pretty as I remember.”

This wasn’t the first time she had been to the lake house. During college she had spent most summers at the estate, swimming and kayaking in the lake by day and spending most evenings drinking around the fire pit with Ben. The first year, Rey had been reluctant to take Leia up on the offer. Surely she would be an imposition. But Leia had insisted, and since Rey really had no where else to spend her summers, she had eventually agreed.

“My mom was happy to hear we’d be using it,” Ben’s voice was tender and soothing, cutting the engine as he parked in front of the garage door. “She always liked you.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good.” Rey could just make out Ben’s profile in the rapidly fading afternoon light. He seemed frozen, staring at the house with trepidation. “She misses you,” he added so softly that Rey wasn’t quite sure he had actually spoken.

Rey remembered those summers at the house. Leia had always kept the kitchen fully stocked, constantly baking sweet treats or stirring some variety of sauce or stew on the stove (always a family recipe, always promising one day that she would pass it down to Rey). There was always music softly floating from room to room, with Leia humming along.

Ben had always assured her that this was all for Rey’s benefit, that if she hadn’t been there it would be endless frozen pizzas and work emails. Rey liked to think he was wrong, that Leia’s caretaking had been just as much for Ben’s benefit as hers, but something inside her told her not to argue with Ben about it. He could be stubborn as a mule when he wanted.

“I miss her too,” Rey replied just as quietly. She watched Ben’s lips twitch upward into a small smile.

After another moment, Ben sighed, seeming to prepare himself for the memories that were about to flood his senses, or maybe shielding him from the ones that already had.

“Ready?” He asked, more to himself that her.

Rey nodded.

Ben stepped out of the vehicle and grabbed the bags from the trunk. Rey followed as he made his way up the walkway towards the house. The front door didn’t have a key, like the last time Rey had visited, so instead Ben entered a security code and they heard the locking mechanism turn with a sharp _click_.

“Fancy,” Rey muttered, mostly to herself.

“Dad is really into home improvement projects lately,” Ben explained as he opened the door to the house. He held it as Rey entered, then swiftly secured it behind her. “I’ll give you the code later.”

The house was different than she remembered, clearly renovations had taken place since the time she spent here in college. The open plan living area still had the high ceilings and cozy fireplace, but the furniture was new, a sleek sectional dividing the large space with two large arm chairs in one corner near the built in bookshelves. The kitchen had been renovated with sleek stainless steel appliances and quartz countertops, a fresh coat of light blue paint added to the airy coziness of the space, and vases of hydrangeas lined the kitchen island.

“It looks beautiful,” Rey breathed.

“Mhmm,” Ben mused, his eyes never leaving her. He watched as she took it all in, waiting until her eyes finally met his before he spoke again. “Do you want to see my room?”

— — — — —

Ben’s room was like stepping into a nostalgia shop. The walls were plastered in posters featuring throwback bands like Green Day, 30 Seconds to Mars, and My Chemical Romance. Build-your-own aircraft figurines were showcased among the teen literature books that crowded the shelves lining the walls of the bedroom. A bright blue iMac G3 sat atop the sturdy wooden desk, its bulky plastic frame taking up the majority of the space.

The bedding on the full size mattress featured characters from those popular space movies Rey never quite understood, but she remembered frequently listening to Ben’s rambles and rants with rapt attention. When he was passionate about something it was hard to get him to shut up, a trait she adored about him. On the floor, a Bop-it and Slinky lay hidden just under the bed. Rey knew that just past them hidden in a dusty shoebox was a stash of cigarette butts, rolling papers, an empty flask, and a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue that he had pilfered from Han in middle school.

Ben watched as Rey roamed around his room. She moved slowly, taking it all in, seemingly entranced, lost in memories. Occasionally she stopped to look at a photo on the wall or pick up one of his model airplanes, always so delicately, as if merely breathing too heavily could break the trance of nostalgia.

She wandered over to his nightstand, a navy blue piece from a yard sale that his mother had refurbished. There was a table lamp shaped like a sailboat, a broken alarm clock, and a corded telephone with bright neon mechanics peeking through the translucent case sitting atop it. Rey picked the phone up and put it to her ear, smiling as she heard the calming drone of the dial tone.

It was familiar. Soothing. Comforting.

Like Ben.

“It’s exactly the same as it used to be,” Rey breathed, turning back to him.

Ben shrugged, looking at his feet. “I haven’t been here in years.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Rey eyed him skeptically. It wasn’t the first time Ben had had a falling out with his family, and she had been witness to his infamous falling outs with his parents. Usually it was over something stupid. Something that held onto past drama that made its way into the current issue. Rey had learned to adapt to whatever situation presented itself, but in the end she always sided with Ben. He was trying, she knew, and it had been a long, tense road to rebuilding the relationship.

Finally she asked, “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Silence filled the room. “Ben…”

A heavy silence hung over the room. Like when you first meet a stranger, tense and awkward, a silence that caused your skin to crawl. Suddenly the comfort and nostalgia was gone and replaced by cold ambiguity. She shivered in the silence, wondering how she could fix it.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ben finally spoke.

“Do you want to see your room?”

Rey was taken aback. Her room? Wouldn’t they be…

No. That’s right. This wasn’t real. Why would they _share_ a _room_ when this was all just…practical. They were here, at his parents’ lake house, to accomplish a task. He was doing her a favor, trying to help her get pregnant. As friends. Platonically.

Right.

Rey forced a smile that she prayed Ben couldn’t see through, nodding to add to the sell. “Sure. That sounds lovely.”

— — — — —

Her room was breathtaking. Apparently one of Han’s “projects” had been to renovate the attic. The sharp A-line slope of the roof was emphasized with a massive equilateral triangle window that encompassed the entirety of the wall overlooking the lake, creating an unprecedented view of the landscape. Pine slats lined every inch of the walls-turned-ceilings, and a soft Aztec rug covered most of the natural hardwood floor. Just under the massive window was a queen size bed. No adornments, nothing to distract from the view.

Rey wanted to wake up here everyday.

Wake up here with _Ben_ , she realized.

_No_ , she silently warned herself, forcing herself to repress those feelings. It wasn’t fair to Ben, after all, to harbor romantic feelings for him, knowing him the way she does now.

“This is really lovely,” she said instead, turning to look at him with a smile.

He was gazing out the window overlooking the lake. But, Rey discovered, walking over to him, he wasn’t looking at the lake.

He was looking at the fire pit.

_Their_ fire pit.

“Do you remember the bonfires?” Ben asked, voice just barely a whisper.

Rey nodded silently, following his gaze out the window. She thought back to that night, several drinks in, the twilight hours having come and long gone, sitting around that bonfire with Ben. There had been magic in the air that night, it was the only explanation for what happened.

_No_ , she silently scolded herself. She couldn’t think about that night, not now, not with everything they were here to do.

This wasn’t the time or place to be reminiscing, she decided. It was unprofessional, rude even, to Ben. Her friend. Her _best_ friend. Who had taken her here, to his parent’s lake house, not for a walk down memory lane but to help her make a baby.

A baby with him.

Ben’s baby.

Her and _Ben’s baby_.

_Their baby_.

She felt tears prickle her eyes.

Turning away form the window so Ben wouldn’t see, she steadied her voice and nonchalantly asked, “Is the bathroom still—“

“Second floor, just off the landing,” Ben replied without missing a beat.

She was halfway down the steps leading up to the attic by the time he realized she was leaving. It was her imagination, it _had_ to be, that caused her to hear him say something that sounded an awful lot like, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

The tears weren’t in her eyes anymore. They were _everywhere_.

— — — — —

When Rey returned from the bathroom she found Ben in the kitchen, cooking dinner. She watched him silently, and he was so in the zone, in his element, that he didn’t notice her at first. It was like watching a ballet performance, seemingly a choreographed dance, every movement coordinated, every motion swift and deliberate, beautiful and meaningful and _emotional_.

She took a deep breath and braced herself as she entered the kitchen.

“Hey, swee— Rey,” Ben said, turning to the stove and tossing something green in a sauté pan. “Are you—?”

Rey nodded quickly, her voice cutting him off, “Yeah, I’m good.”

For a moment there was only the sound of sizzling pans and the chef knife against the cutting board.

“What are you making,” Rey finally asked, taking a seat on one of the stools at the island.

“Butternut squash risotto with salmon and snow peas,” he replied mid-motion.

A warmth filled Rey’s stomach. “That’s my favorite…” she murmured.

Ben paused, taking a moment to fully look at her, something deep and warm filling his eyes. If she didn’t know better, his deep amber eyes, the meaningful look, would have said, _I know, it’s for you, it’s all for you_. But she did know better, so she swiftly cast the thought away.

“Do you want some wine? I had to open a bottle for the risotto…”

“Sure,” Rey agreed, trying not to sound too eager. “I mean once it’s opened—“

“It goes bad,” Ben finished for her.

He was already at the wine fridge (built into the kitchen island, of course), pulling out the bottle and pouring her a glass of the crisp white wine. She looked up at him with a grateful smile. Was it her imagination or did he hold her gaze for just a moment longer than necessary?

Before she could process the moment he was back at the stove, tending to the risotto.

“Ben?” Rey all but whispered.

“Hmm?” Ben responded without taking his attention away from the risotto. He insisted risotto was a “labor of love” and needed “well-deserved attention to thrive” but it felt like in this moment he was intentionally avoiding her.

But she didn’t continue. Didn’t finish airing her worries. Because she knew Ben, and right now Ben was in the moment.

And he would want her in the moment too.

“It all smells wonderful,” she said instead.

Ben took a tasting spoon off the counter and dipped it into the risotto. He blew on it delicately to cool it off, the way a loving parent would for their child to prevent a burnt tongue. Holding the spoon in one hand with his other cupped beneath to prevent drips, he maneuvered around the island until he was barely inches from her.

“Taste this,” he instructed quietly, holding the spoon out towards her.

She leaned in and let him spoon the warm bite into her mouth. A sensation of flavors exploded on her tongue. Sweetness from the butternut squash mixed with savory sage, the rich nuttiness of browned butter and acidity of white wine combined with the toothiness of the arborio rice was, quite literally, Michelin Star worthy.

“That’s delicious,” Rey praised once she had swallowed the bite.

Ben nodded, turning his attention back to the stove. “I’m going to add some fried sage, of course, for garnish.”

Rey smiled. She hadn’t seen Ben this happy, this in his element, in a long time. “When’s the last time you actually cooked for fun?” She asked.

Ben shrugged, watching the sage leaves sizzling in hot oil like a hawk, making sure they didn’t burn. “I don’t remember,” he answered honestly. “I’ve been… busy.”

“You need to take a vacation,” Rey retorted with a chuckle.

Ben strained the sage leaves from the oil, resting them atop a paper towel lined plate and sprinkling them with a light dusting of salt. When he was done, he looked up at her, brow furrowed with confusion. “I _am_ on vacation?”

“What? _This_?”

Ben nodded.

“Ben!” Rey laughed. “This isn’t a vacation. This is… You know… This is you being wonderful and helping me have a family but it’s not a vacation for you.”

Ben opened his mouth, as if he were going to protest, but thought better of it. He lowered his eyes, refocusing on his cooking.

She watched as he finished the laborious dinner, plating the risotto, salmon, and snap peas with the precision and grace of an artist. It was so beautiful that Rey insisted on taking pictures, causing Ben to blush. His cheeks grew flushed and the tips of his ears peaking out through his dark hair burned red. He murmured a soft “Thank you,” as Rey gushed over how gorgeous and delicious everything was.

After they had devoured the meal and the dishwasher was softly humming with purpose and content, Ben pulled a bottle of whiskey out of the bar cabinet and, with a devilish grin, asked, “Bonfire?”

— — — — —

Moonlight danced across the lake, the water twinkling like diamonds as Rey followed Ben down toward the fire pit. He had grabbed a bottle of whiskey, flannel blanket, stack of newspapers (“Kindling,” he had said), and a pack of matches before leaving the house, and Rey couldn’t help but admire the way he easily carried all three items in just one hand. Then again, she had witnessed him carry far more than that: textbooks and coffee and sunglasses and notebooks.

She settled in on one of the chairs that were scattered around the fire pit and watched Ben work. He set the bottle of whiskey on the ground and tossed the blanket on the chair next to hers. Bunching up a few pages of newspaper, he lit a match and brought it to the dry paper. It lit instantly, casting a small warm light into the darkness surrounding them. He dropped the lit kindling into the fire pit and began stacking small sticks and twigs, building a teepee for the fire to grow into.

The flames danced across his face, illuminating his features in the darkness. Rey noticed, in this light he was dastardly handsome. His jaw, sharp and angular, the slight bend of his nose at the bridge highlighted by the flames. Rey remembered how he got that bend, in a ridiculous fight at a party, defending her from a far too handsy frat boy. Afterwards, as she was holding a towel to his bleeding nose, she had scolded him, assuring him that she had the situation under control. He had responded with a stream of obscenities that had caused even Rey to blush.

Ben added more wood to the fire, wider logs that would take longer to burn. He arranged them carefully, skillfully, like a Tetris player thinking three moves ahead. Ben had always been more spatially and geometrically adept than Rey.

The fire grew steadily bigger as Ben coaxed it, adding and adjusting logs accordingly. Once he was satisfied with the structural integrity and strength of the fire, he settled in to the chair next to Rey and opened the bottle of whiskey. After taking a swig from the bottle he offered it to Rey.

“No thanks,” she said, shaking her head.

“Since when do you pass up whiskey?”

“I mean, the wine with dinner was bad enough but whiskey is too much, no?” Rey answered honestly. When Ben stared at her blankly she added, “You know, since I’m trying to get pregnant and alcohol is bad for babies?”

Realization struck Ben’s face and he withdrew the outstretched whiskey bottle. “Right,” he murmured, staring at the fire.

Rey followed his gaze. The fire _was_ beautiful in the darkness. Near the lake it had the added benefit of keeping mosquitoes away, which were particularly attracted to Ben, usually, with his O-negative “universal donor” blood type.

“Well, if we don’t try tonight, does it matter?” Ben finally said through the darkness.

Rey thought for a moment. She’d had wine at dinner, and quite frankly she was _tired_. It made sense to skip trying tonight. They were probably _both_ exhausted just from the journey up to the house, so why push the boundaries?

“Okay,” Rey finally relented, stretching her arm out for the bottle of whiskey.

Ben reached down and passed it to her, a devilish smirk on his face, like he had just won some sort of game that she wasn’t even aware they had been playing. He watched as she took a swig, smiling to himself as she downed the liquid with a wince.

“So I really am intruding on your vacation then?” Rey asked out of nowhere.

“Hmm?”

“You said you were on vacation before, despite all… _this_.” Rey specified. “So… sorry. If I’m like, hindering your actual vacation.”

Ben stared at her in the darkness.

“Rey. This _is_ my vacation.”

“Right. But I’m just sorry your vacation time is spent on me and my…issues…or whatever,” she amends.

She grows uncomfortable under his stare, until he finally speaks, “Rey, this is the best vacation I’ve had in… a _long_ time.”

“Really?” She asked, peeking out from under her long lashes.

He nodded in response, taking another swig of whiskey.

Rey couldn’t quite read his expression in the night as the flickering flames from the fire cast shadows across his sharp features. He seemed tense, working his jaw and running his fingers through his hair.

She wanted to ask him again. If this was _okay_ , but she didn’t. At some point she had to have faith that if he changed his mind about their situation, he’d tell her. This was about _trust_. Something Rey wasn’t too familiar with, if she was being totally honest. But, this was Ben, and they had built their entire friendship on trust. She had to believe that even now, even in these murky waters they were treading, that trust was still present.

He passed the whiskey bottle back to her and she took a swig, emboldening her. “So, what have you been so busy with?”

Ben’s brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“Every time I ask you something you say you’ve been really busy. What are you working on? The next great American novel?”

Ben can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Silence envelopes the night before Rey finally goads, “Well? What is it then?”

He doesn’t reply at first. Rather, he takes another swig of whiskey. Then another. And _another_. Until Rey is actually getting worried about how she’ll get him back to the house. She finally reaches her hand out to gesture for the bottle, taking the smallest of sips to mask her true intent, and waits for him to formulate his response.

“I’m scared to tell you,” he finally admits.

“Why?”

Ben lets out a frustrated sigh. “Because,” he finally says, “it’s sort of a memoir. And I’m not sure I’m ready for anyone to see it.”

Rey nodded. “You don’t have to share anything until you’re ready, you know.”

“I’m not sure it’ll be good enough.” His voice is just barely a whisper. Rey isn’t even sure she heard him correctly over the crackle of the fire.

“Ben…”

Ben shook his head in protest, dark hair flying around his face as the warm glow of the fire danced across his skin. “I really don’t want to talk about it, Rey.”

For a while there’s nothing but the crackle of the bonfire, the rustle of leaves in the soft wind, the quiet splash of the lake against the shore. It’s peaceful. Calming. Rey can almost imagine this being her new normal, _their_ new normal. Summers by the lake, her and Ben and their _child_.

Their child. Right. The reason they were here to begin with. Rey had to get a grip on reality. She could do this. She could focus. She could—

“Remember that bonfire we had here, at the end of freshman year?” Ben asks, breaking the silence.

Rey tumbles back to reality, her reality, sitting around the bonfire with Ben, and can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that was…memorable.”

“That was a good night,” he mused, grabbing the whiskey and taking another sip.

Rey watched him curiously. She knew the exact party he was referring too. They had just finished exams for the semester and Poe had convinced Ben to throw a party at his parents’ lake house.

“If I remember correctly, that night began with twister-limbo followed by a shots contest—“

“I think the shots contest came first,” Ben interjected.

“—and it ended with…” Rey trailed off. She didn’t want to put it into words, fearing it would ruin the night. Their friendship. _Everything_.

Because she remembered that night all too well. She still had _dreams_ of that night. Of Ben smiling at her from across the bonfire. Of the warm tingle of whiskey sliding down her throat. Of his hand, warm and soft, enveloping hers as he tenderly pulled her away from their drunken friends and into the wooded area of the lot, walking further and further until they stumbled onto the treehouse. Ben’s treehouse.

Han had built it for him when he was four, Ben had explained. He helped Rey climb up the ladder, following suit, somehow managing to climb the ladder _and_ hold the bottle of whiskey. He had lit the lantern that still hung in the center of the ceiling and pulled out a blanket from one of the waterproof bins in the corner.

They had spent hours talking, sipping whiskey and staring at the stars from under the skylight. Rey had learned that when he was eight Ben had fallen out the window of the treehouse and broken his arm. She told him about when she was ten and had broken her wrist skateboarding with one of her foster brothers. He had asked about her foster homes and maybe because of the whiskey or his warm amber eyes she had told him. She had opened up to him in a way she never had with anyone before.

He told her about when he was thirteen and he raided his parents liquor cabinet then rowed out to the middle of the lake, lost both paddles and ended up stranded all night. Leia had thrown a fit, even called the police before Ben had stumbled onto the shore, soaking wet from when he had eventually capsized after waking up hungover and disoriented.

After the Incident, as Leia and Han referred to it, his parents decided to send him to his uncle Luke’s reform school. Rey could picture it clear as day, as if it was occurring right before her eyes rather than a memory from over a decade ago: her sitting, wrapped in the blanket in the dim light of the lantern, watching him trust her with his innermost thoughts. Secrets he had never told anyone before. Pieces of his _soul_.

She remembers telling him how alone she felt bouncing around from foster home to foster home, never allowing herself to get settled because as soon as she did she would just have to leave again. She can still hear his voice, ringing in her ears, as he said, “You’re not alone.” In the darkness of night, in this secret safe-house they had created twenty feet in the air, in the lofty branches of this random tree, she remembers looking in his eyes, innocent and vulnerable, _wanting_ , and whispering back to him, “Neither are you.”

What happened afterwards they had never spoken of again, but Rey never forgot. She never forgot the feeling of his hands on her face, wiping tears she hadn’t even noticed were there. His hands were soft and large and then they weren’t on her face anymore, but her neck, her arms, her back, her hips, and he was pulling her close to him, keeping her warm, pulling her face to his.

His lips on hers were pillowy and delicate, tasting her as if she was the most delectable treat, as if he were starving and she was ambrosia. He tasted like whiskey and mint and salt from her tears ( _their_ tears?) and she committed it to memory. Committed _him_ to memory, as his hands caressed her, as his tongue tasted her. She had never felt so whole, so happy, so _safe_. Because it was Ben, and Ben was her home.

They had never talked about that night, Rey remembered as she stared at the bonfire dwindling out, barely reduced to embers in the ever darkening twilight. When the fire was nothing more than smoke, Ben’s voice, soft and calm, cut through the night.

“It’s still here, you know. The treehouse.”

She looked over at him, his eyes glowing orbs in the night, intense and warm and staring at her with _intent_ and _purpose_.

“Do you want to see it?”


	2. this is me trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [textfic au]
> 
> Rey wants a baby and asks her gay best friend Ben to help. Little does she know Ben is actually bi, _and_ he has a massive crush on her.
> 
> -
> 
> This is the second part of the written portion of my Twitter textfic [Baby Fever](https://twitter.com/adamsnackler/status/1284326511248584704).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been almost two months since I updated this so not sure if anyone is still reading but it's HERE! FINALLY!
> 
> Sorry this took me so long to update! I don't really know what to say other than I got really busy with some personal stuff and couldn't really focus on writing more than a few little textfic updates but hopefully now I can get grooving (ok boomer) with the rest of this fic.
> 
> Also, note some updates to the tags. I tried to write smut a little sorta. I'm still not very experienced with writing it so try to be gentle with me but I do welcome feedback/advice :)
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience!

Their old path to the treehouse has grown over with weeds and brush. Ben does his best to hack through it with his Swiss army knife, but it’s still slow going. At one point, Rey trips over a fallen branch, hidden under a blanket of leaves. Ben turns back upon hearing her small _yelp_ and, muttering a quiet “ _Shit_ ,” under his breath, retraces his steps back towards her to ensure she’s safe. He sweeps her up in a fireman’s hold and carries her that way for the rest of their journey, despite Rey’s protests, ignoring her fists pounding into his back and smiling at her giggles.

She clings to his chest, legs wrapped around his waist, as he climbs the ladder to the treehouse, breathing in the scent of his laundry detergent and the slight whiff of masculine sweat from their voyage to their secluded hideout in the woods. He smells the same as back then, Rey can’t help but think. Sandalwood from whatever soap he used and mint from his chewing gum, the scent calming and electric all at once.

Once they are up the ladder he sets her down gently, then turns around to light the lantern still hanging from the ceiling. The small flame casts a faint orange glow across the cabin, illuminating the once darkened shadowy corners.

The treehouse is unbelievable, Han having poured hours upon long summer hours into the project. It’s far beyond any basic childhood treehouse, equipped with built-in shelving and windows and even a skylight in the roof that frames the starry night sky like some priceless painting. Waterproof bins are still stuck in the corner, housing blankets and various necessities and treasures Ben had collected over the years, keeping them safe from the natural elements. It’s cozy, homey, as if it were a sacred place, a shelter for lost souls to seek refuge.

“It’s just as beautiful as I remember,” Rey breathes, looking around.

Ben nods, not taking his eyes off her. “It is.”

She meets his eye and feels her face grow flush, looking down at her feet and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Smooth moves, Solo,” she teases, trying to be braver than she feels.

Ben lets out a laugh that’s really more of a scoff, low and husky, reverberating in the still night air. It’s preposterous, he thinks, to think that he has any sort of game when it comes to flirting or even relationships in general. “Yeah, that’s what they say about me,” he agrees, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Rey giggles, humming out an, “Mmhmm,” as she does.

Ben can think of nothing more intoxicating.

 _She_ is intoxicating.

It feels surreal, them being back in this space that holds so many secrets. Maybe it was her or the whiskey or the reverence of this place, the _treehouse_ , where magic happened, but regardless of reason Ben can’t help what he says next.

“I haven’t been back here since that night.”

That catches her attention.

Her gaze finds him again, her warm amber eyes wide in the soft light, shining up at him. The flickering light from the lantern dances across her face, illuminating her freckles and dimples in the darkness as she smiles at him, turning his limbs and his heart and his soul to liquid.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that night,” she muses, nose scrunched in confusion.

“Why not?” His voice is barely a whisper, choking out the words as if worried that speaking too loudly would break whatever trance they were in. As if anything could break the fragile magic that incases this, their sacred treehouse, under the starry night sky.

Rey can’t bring herself to meet his eye, twisting her fingers together and staring at her feet as she replies. “I always thought I sort of, I don’t know, took advantage of you that night. I know it wasn’t, you weren’t, I just…” she lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m just sorry, is all. I know you regret it—“

“I don’t regret it,” Ben interrupts, his words firm and unwavering, casting no doubt that he means them. He wants her to know he means them. How _much_ he means them.

Rey’s eyes shoot up to his, dark with wonder and mystery.

“You don’t?” she breathes the words like they’re foreign to her, like she is unsure what they mean. What _he_ means.

Ben shakes his head. “No. I don’t.”

Rey can’t help the way her feet move toward him, closing the distance between them in a few short steps. Suddenly she’s in his space, her scent overwhelming his senses. The familiarity of her lavender shampoo and cocoa butter body wash comforting him in the cool night because it is so distinctly her, so _Rey_.

She gazes up at him from under long lashes, eyes dark and needy with unspoken desire, biting her lip. Her eyes flicker to his lips then back to meet his gaze, lips parting to speak but emanating no words.

He reaches out, delicately cupping her chin and stroking her cheek with his thumb. Before he can hesitate he guides her face towards his, brushing his lips against hers. She melts into him, all at once molding her body to his and deepening the kiss. His tongue darts between her lips, velvet inside her mouth as he _tastes_ her.

His hand roams from her face to her arm to her hip, grabbing her and pulling her in impossibly closer. His other hand brushes up and down her side, taking in the curves of her hips and waist as it meanders along her body. She can’t help but let out a small moan into his mouth as his hand grazes her breast on its journey along her body.

He moves his mouth from her lips to her jawline to her neck, suckling and biting at the sensitive skin.

“Ben,” Rey moans. She means it as a question, but her confusion is buried under untamed yearning. All logical reasoning ceases to exist as she lets herself melt into him.

His breathing is hot and ragged as he sucks on her neck, the hand that had been wandering her body having stopped on her breast, squeezing gently. She feels him grow harder against her and she tucks her hand between them, cupping her hand against him and rubbing him through his jeans.

He lets out a low groan, his head dropping to rest on her shoulder, inches from where his lips had marked her with tiny bruises. “ _Fuck, Rey_ ,” he growls.

She whimpers a moan in reply, her free hand now entangled in his hair, holding him close as her pace quickens. She can feel his body begin to shake, feels him quivering against her—

Suddenly, Ben lifts his head from her shoulder, his eyes finding hers in the flickering light. They’re dark, hungry and intent. He reaches down between them and grabs her wrist tight enough to bruise. “Rey,” he growls again.

In one swift movement his lips are on hers again, hungrier than before, his hand on her hip tightening as he maneuvers her against the wall of the treehouse. He bumps her against the solid oak wall a little too forcefully as he fervently consumes her. His hand drops her wrist and tucks between them again, undoing the button and zipper of her jeans, then pauses, hesitant above the waistband.

“Mmmm,” she hums, urging him to continue.

That’s all the encouragement he needs. His hand tucks inside her jeans, pulls her sensible cotton underwear to the side and brushes a thick finger over her wet labia. “Mmm,” he moans into her, lips still scattering her with kisses. “So _wet_ for me, Sweetheart.”

He slides his finger inside her, knuckle deep, and she cries out. His thumb finds her clit, rubbing in circular motions, as he begins to pump his finger inside her.

“Ben,” she moans into his mouth as he suffocates her with another passionate, desperate kiss.

Her hands quickly undo the button on his jeans and she slips a hand inside his boxer briefs, finding him hard and throbbing. Her thumb rubs the bead of precum on his tip in delicate circular motions as she wraps her hand around him and begins to pump, steadily gaining speed.

He groans her name as he slides another finger into her and she knows she won’t last long, not with the punishing rhythm he’s setting. “Rey,” he moans into her ear. “Can I—“

Rey moans out a string of “ _yes, please, Ben, yes_ ,” and suddenly Ben has pulled his fingers out of her, her hand off him, and then _he’s_ taking control, gently guiding himself into her core and sliding into her with one quick motion.

Her legs are useless, weak limbs of jello as he fucks into her, pushing her further up the wall with every thrust. She clings to him, hands wrapped around his neck, clawing into his back, into his hair, as she moans into his ear.

His hair hides his face, tucked into the crevice of her neck and shoulder, peppering her with love bites and kisses, chanting her name as his pace quickens. Her stomach flutters and vision blurs to white as she comes, crying out his name and digging her nails painfully into his back. He fucks her through her orgasm, his thrusts becoming irregular as he reaches his own peak, spilling into her with a loud, low growl.

His forehead once again drops to rest on her shoulder, panting as he comes down from his high. Ben lets out another small groan as he pulls out of her and Rey stifles a giggle. He grins down at her, timorous but content, as they readjust themselves.

Once they’re both sufficiently righted, he walks over to the bins in the corner and pulls out some pillows and blankets. He arranges his collection on the floor of the treehouse, directly under the skylight. On his knees, in the dim lighting, he smiles up at her bashfully, and Rey feels her heart flutter. She joins him in the little nest he’s made for them, lying down and staring up at the stars. He puts out the flame that had been burning in the lantern, casting the treehouse in nothing but moonlight. She feels him join her, lying down next to her in the blankets, his body warm and comforting mere inches from hers.

They lay there like that, staring up at the stars for what could be minutes or hours, both satisfied and content. At some point, Rey finds herself tilting her head, resting it on Ben’s shoulder, murmuring something about how beautiful the stars are out here, and how they would never be able to see this many in the city.

Ben feels his eyes flutter shut as he stares at the stars, his arms wrapping around Rey, shrouding her in warmth as he drifts off to sleep. He isn’t quite sure, his mind cloudy with contentment and drowsiness, but he’s pretty sure he nuzzles into her hair and murmurs something about her being prettier than any star in the sky.

—————

Rey wakes up the next morning entrapped in Ben’s arms, their limbs tangled in a slew of blankets. Sunlight pours in through the treehouse windows and skylight, drowning them in blinding light and warmth. Ben’s breathing is soft and steady, and Rey wants nothing more than to lay there with him until his eyelids flutter open and he grins at her sleepily.

But that can’t happen. Because none of this is real.

As quickly and quietly as she can she disentangles herself from Ben’s hold. He stirs at one point, causing Rey to freeze, but then resumes his steady hum. Breathing out a silent sigh of relief, Rey collects herself and makes her way towards the entrance to the treehouse.

She can’t help but cast one final quick glance back at Ben, still softly snoring under the glow of morning light pouring in through the skylight. He looks like a prince, like this, she thinks. And when she thinks about it more, she realizes he’s always been her prince. It’s always been him, who’s been there for her whenever she needed help. Whenever she needed a hug or a shoulder to cry on, a place to stay, someone to vent to, or just when she needed someone who truly _saw_ her and understood her. In the early magic of morning it felt to Rey like their souls were entwined, like fate and destiny and all those myths that only exist in fairytales had brought them together.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she begins making her way down the ladder, seemingly much longer than it had been the night before. Tears prick her eyes and she furiously brushes them away. Because fate and destiny and _soulmates_ don’t exist in the real world. She isn’t a princess and Ben isn’t her prince.

It isn’t until nearly an hour later that Ben awakens, the glare of mid-morning light assaulting his vision as he blinks rapidly, squinting as his eyes adjust to the new level of light. The air around him feels crisp and woodsy, and as he glances around the treehouse he realizes Rey is nowhere to be found. She left him. Again.

He tries to fight the stinging in his eyes, silently cursing himself for thinking it would be different this time. That somehow now he would be enough and he would wake up with her still in his arms. That maybe some part of her wanted him too. It had certainly felt like that last night, he thinks. Under the blanket of stars, the magic of twilight, it had felt like she might feel it too.

But that was then and this is now.

Slowly, Ben gathers up the blankets and pillows, the only remaining reminders of the night before, and returns them to their home in the waterproof bins. Making his way back towards the house, he stops by the fire pit to gather the bottle of whiskey and blanket abandoned from the night before, returning the former to the bar cart on his way to the kitchen and dumping the latter in the laundry room. In the kitchen, he makes his way toward the pantry, grabbing a box of bran cereal and shoves his hand inside. He brings a fistful to his face, not bothering with milk, and shoves it into his mouth, allowing the steady crunch to drown out his thoughts, his molars shattering his dreams of the night before.

“Hey,” Rey’s voice calls to him meekly from the other side of the kitchen.

Ben turns to face her, still chewing, and offers a nod.

“So what do you want to do today?” Her hair is still wet from her shower, wrapped up into a sloppy bun on the top of her head. She’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt, ties from a yellow bikini poking out the top, showing off her long lean limbs. The overwhelming scent of her vanilla body lotion reaches Ben’s senses even from across the kitchen.

So they’re pretending it never happened. Again.

Ben forces back a sigh, swallowing thickly. “There’s a waterfall,” he begins slowly, voice tinged with trepidation. He had carefully planned the perfect date, well _day_ , and he hopes Rey likes the idea. “It’s only accessible by rowing out to this little clearing across the lake and then hiking a few miles up this trail…”

“That sounds beautiful,” Rey agrees with a smile.

“I thought we could hike out there and have a picnic.” His voice is soft again, tentatively glancing up at her from behind dark lashes.

“It sounds perfect.” Rey beams up at him and Ben feels his heart grow impossibly warm.

They spend the better part of the rest of the morning preparing for their afternoon adventure. Rey watches from her perch on the kitchen island as Ben makes their picnic lunches (“Trail mix is a hiking _staple_ , Rey,” he insists when she asks for PB&J. They settle on both, naturally). When he’s finished, he ducks upstairs to change into hiking clothes and pack a waterproof bag of essentials.

To call their plans a hike in the true sense of the word is a bit of a stretch, but Ben still wants to be prepared _just in case_. He throws a flashlight, small first aid kit, sunscreen and bug spray, compass, and his faithful Swiss Army knife into the waterproof backpack and meets Rey back in the kitchen. While he was gone she had taken it upon herself to fill two Camelback water bottles with filtered water from the refrigerator.

Ben lets himself get lost for a moment in the domesticity of it. How in sync they are, _harmonious_ , literally picking up where the other left off without missing a beat. Rey meanders over to him, water bottles and lunches in tow, and smiles up at him. He takes the items from her and packs them into the bag.

“Ready?” He asks once the pack is secured to his back, the little front strap clicked into place across his chest.

Rey nods, still smiling. “Ready.”

—————

Ben rowed crew in college, Rey remembers. He’s stayed in shape over the years since, and it’s evident that the muscle memory has returned as he swiftly rows them across the lake. Rey allows herself to relax in the small boat, letting Ben do all the work, breathing in the crisp lake air as they glide across the smooth water. She tries to admire the picturesque landscape passing by but finds her eye drawn to him more often than not, watching his muscles strain against his white t-shirt as he rows. He’s entirely focused on the task at hand, face set in concentration, and Rey feels confident he can’t possibly notice her admiring him from behind her dark sunglasses.

It’s not fair, she decides, to have a best friend that looks like a Greek God. His biceps and chest strain against the white t-shirt that’s slowly becoming translucent with sweat, and Rey wonders why he bothered with the shirt at all. Letting out an involuntary sigh, she forces herself to look back at the landscape. It _is_ truly beautiful. The crystal blue lake a stark contrast to the greenery surrounding it, scattered with quaint, rustic homes along the water’s edge.

Due to Ben’s quick rowing they make it across the lake in record time, and it’s not long before he’s tying the boat to a dock. Once the boat is secure he extends his hand, helping Rey out of the small craft.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, taking his hand and stepping onto the sturdy dock.

They hike along a small path cut through the greenery, Ben stopping to point out interesting foliage to her as she listens with rapt attention. It reminds her of Freshman year when she, wide eyed and naive, dragged him to a nature documentary playing at the student union. She had told him how little greenery she had seen growing up in England and how the first time she saw Central Park she had been shocked that a city so grey could house so much green. He had taken it upon himself to share as much knowledge as he could about the different plants and flowers scattering the background on the screen while she listened to his deep, smooth-as-whiskey voice whispering in her ear and tried not to melt.

She had been a silly girl back then, stupidly thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was their first date. He had been so nice, sat so close, smiled so wide, and looked at her like no one ever had. Then, on their way out the door, the illusion shattered. Ben suddenly grew tense, ducking his head and turning around to face her, gritted through his teeth, “Can we walk this way instead. My ex-boyfriend is over there and I really can’t deal with seeing him right now.”

It was at that moment that Rey realized that she and Ben were destined to be Just Friends. She had been heartbroken at first, fighting back tears in the moment, but ultimately the important thing was that he was in her life. He was someone she could truly be herself around, not hold anything back, and he understood her like no one else ever could. He had, frankly, ruined other men for her. How was she supposed to find love, especially in a city as jaded as New York, when she had a best friend who put every other man to shame?

When they finally make it to a sharp turn in the path, Ben suddenly stops in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders to keep her still. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” she laughs, rolling her eyes. “Why? Are you going to murder me and leave my body out here where no one will ever find it?”

Bens eyes grow wide. “Jesus Christ, Rey.” He shakes his head. “Not quite. Can you close your eyes for me? I want this to be a surprise.”

She doesn’t hesitate, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

Ben stares at her for a moment. If he didn’t know better he’d kiss her, right then and there, in this little magical world of green where she’s his sun and he’s her moon and fairytales exist. But he does know better, so instead he shakes the thought from his head and gently holds her hands as he guides her around the turn.

She hears the running water and smells lavender and when he asks her to open her eyes she squints against the sun to see the most breathtaking view she has ever seen.

Before her is a small clearing with an abundance of lavender stretching endlessly towards a small waterfall cascading over rocks.

“Ben,” she breathes out, rushing towards the natural wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” he agrees, eyes still trained on her awestruck face.

They spend the majority of the afternoon in the clearing, basking in the sun, cooling off in the waterfall when they get overheated. They savor their packed picnic lunch, Ben scowling as Rey rips off the crusts on her PB&J. (“ _Real adults leave the crusts on_ ,” he teases, to which she replies, “ _If by real you mean_ boring _, Benjamin, then you’re absolutely right_.”) They make love (no, make _life_ , they silently remind themselves) until they’re both fully sated and then take turns braiding lavender into each other’s hair while Ben tells Rey about all the wonderful uses the plant has, including a recipe his nana used to make for lavender cookies that Rey insists he bake for her as soon as they return to the city.

Before dusk begins to settle, Ben reminds them that they need to get back to the house before it gets too dark. Rey doesn’t bother to hide her annoyance at his practicality and the ever present fact that time continues to go by, despite her silent prayers that they live in this moment forever. If this was her life, forever in this serene clearing braiding lavender into Ben’s hair and making love (because it _is_ love, she decides) in the waterfall, then that would make Rey the happiest woman on the plant, maybe in the entire galaxy. But time is a cruel mistress that refuses to let go and so it takes this small fantasy, this small bit of hope, away from her. So she follows Ben back towards the boat, back towards the house, every step reminding her that this dream isn’t reality and that tomorrow they head back towards the city. Back to reality.

That night they make love in the guest room overlooking the lake for the last time, Ben ensuring Rey is fully sated before he spills into her. When he comes down from his high he grabs her neck and kisses her with more passion and fervor than she thought imaginable. Almost as if it’s real, even if just for this moment. She kisses him back, nibbling his lip and moaning into his mouth as his tongue swirls around hers.

When they’re both satisfied, lips red and tongues sore, Ben gives Rey one last squeeze, his arms engulfing her lithe body tightly, protectively, before he asks the dreaded question.

“Do you want me to go back to my room?”

“No,” she breathes against his neck, pulling him closer, somehow, despite his vice grip on her.

He nuzzles a smile into her hair and lets himself drift off to sleep, holding her close and hoping against all hope that when he wakes she will still be wrapped in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come say hi or berate me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/adamsnackler) :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Second part coming soon! [edit: <\-- Audrey stop lying you did not update this "soon" by any stretch of the imagination.]
> 
> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/adamsnackler) :)


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